


When I’m Not There

by PrinceRay



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Artist Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Sam Wilson, Bottom Steve Rogers, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Grinding, Groping, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Military Uniforms, Moaning, Muscles, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slash, Smut, Suit Kink, Suit Porn, Suit Sex, Suits, Sweat, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Sam Wilson, Top Steve Rogers, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceRay/pseuds/PrinceRay
Summary: Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes grew up together on the Brooklyn streets, and by the time they were in college, they had fallen in love. Even after they ran away and joined the army together, they were inseparable—the perfect pair.That’s when Bucky was killed in action.Years passed by, and a broken-hearted Steve learned to love again when he met Sam Wilson, a handsome and charming pararescueman who had been through the same traumas Steve had. Sam and Steve’s new relationship was the picture of perfection, and nothing in the world was ever going to tear them apart.That is, until Bucky was found alive.A four-part modern AU.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Riley/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	1. Here's A Little Bit of Backstory You've Heard a Hundred Times

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted my first fanfic two years ago. It was the first chapter to a smutty Finn/Poe modern office romance AU. I know a good number of people have been waiting a long time for the next installment.
> 
> Anyway, here’s something completely different! 
> 
> This is a (hopefully) four-part short story about two MCU ships I love very much. It's essentially porn with an angsty plot in-between, just so you know what you're getting into.
> 
> Inspired by Beyoncé. If you know, you know ;P
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: Part Two is up! Check it out!
> 
> EDIT II: Part Three is now up! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were best friends. They were always there for each other.
> 
> A tale of romance between two young men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of four. Consider this the prologue.

They were kids when they met.

Bucky swore he would always be there for him, and he was.

“To the end of the line,” he’d say.

Steve had grown up without a father—KIA—but he’d heard stories from his mother about a man as brave as he was kind. He saw those same qualities in his best friend.

Steve was a sickly child, always shorter and thinner than all his classmates, and certainly no good at any form of physical activity. He used to joke that if you could name a disease, he probably had it, and some you couldn’t name too. This sense of humor would come in handy when the bullies came to push him around, as bullies often do. Steve fought back, even knowing it was a losing battle. Bucky admired his spirit. He knew Steve could—and always would—stand up for himself, and for what he believed in. 

But Bucky was bigger, and stronger, and older, and he wanted to make sure Steve would never have to.

The memory of Bucky fighting off those bullies was burned into Steve’s mind like a beautiful brand. Perhaps it was the shock of it—the violent side of his friend he had never seen before—that had left such a strong impression on him. Perhaps it was Bucky’s pure strength and valor—the smooth ease with which he threw the other boys aside and sent them back on their way with a promise: “If you ever touch him again, it’ll be the last thing you touch with that hand.” Perhaps it was the genuine concern on his face and in his voice as he helped Steve to his feet when the coast was clear and asked, “Are you okay?” as he hugged him tight to his chest. Or perhaps it was the gentle way with which he had patched up Steve’s bloody wounds, which made Steve’s heart do somersaults behind his ribcage, even as Bucky flippantly shrugged off the purplish bruises on his own face and knuckles.

Steve longed for that kind of strength. The strength to protect what mattered most to him.

As they got older, and Bucky and all the other boys started to show interest in girls, Steve discovered, to his horror, that he was only interested in Bucky. He was cool, and charismatic, and fit, and good-looking, and as promised, he had always been there for him. But Bucky was like a brother to him. And even if he weren’t, alas, he was completely, totally straight. Bucky would remind Steve of this at every opportunity, in fact, by flirting, dating, kissing, and fucking every girl in school. 

During one of their many sleep-overs, Steve lay awake restless, watching Bucky’s sleeping form, wondering what it’d be like just to touch him. Not to hug him, or play-wrestle with him, or do their secret handshake, but to really _touch him_. 

He dreamed about it that night. A tangled mess of hands and lips, so rough, so unbelievably soft, bringing each other unspeakable pleasure. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night with an erection and a puddle of semen in his pajama pants. This had never happened to him before.

“Rogers, are you a virgin?” Bucky had asked him the very next morning over breakfast, in a hushed tone so his mother wouldn’t hear, amusement glinting in his gray-green eyes.

Steve couldn’t tell an outright lie to his friend, but there was no way he could tell the whole truth. “Just haven’t found the right girl yet,” he shrugged without making eye contact, picking away at his scrambled eggs.

Bucky was there for Steve when he made a sorely misguided attempt to set up a double-date with Bonnie and Connie from Algebra, which of course blew up in Steve’s face. Steve was there for Bucky when he blew all his money trying to impress one of his many girlfriends by winning a stuffed bear at the carnival. Bucky was there for Steve again when he blew all those chunks after riding the Cyclone at Coney Island. Steve was there for Bucky again when he wanted to brush up his portfolio so the two of them could go to Auburndale together. 

Bucky was there for Steve once more when he got the call saying his mother had died of cancer.

* * *

It wasn’t until junior year of college when they fell in love.

There had always been an unbreakable connection between them. A longing that had stayed silent for years and years and years—as long as they’d known each other. Hardship has a way of tearing people apart, but sometimes, it brings people closer.

Steve remembered the day fondly now. It was a gloomy afternoon in mid-autumn—in that strange liminal space between raining and not—when Steve arrived at the door of his dorm. He reached into his left jacket pocket, and when his expecting hand did not find a set of keys there, his heart froze into panic. “Oh no.”

He felt blindly through all his other pockets, finding nothing but his battered flip phone, his dad’s leather wallet, a faded ticket stub for _A.I. Artificial Intelligence,_ and a frustrating number of balled-up gum wrappers. He snatched the backpack off his back and dug through text books and sketch pads and graphite and charcoal, to no avail. He was about to turn the bag over and dump it onto the doorstep when he felt a hand on his shoulder from behind. 

“It’s okay,” chuckled Bucky, twirling a keyring on his finger as Steve looked up at him in surprise. “I have a spare.”

“Oh thank God,” Steve sighed his relief, but then he double-took at the key in his best friend’s hand. “Wait, why do you have that?” Steve rose to his feet. He was almost as tall as Bucky now, and he was somehow convinced he would keep growing until he was the taller one.

“In case of emergency,” he shrugged as he turned the lock and let himself in, grabbing Steve’s bag on the way.

“I can carry my own bag,” grumbled Steve, stepping in behind him and closing and locking the door. 

“Nonsense.” Bucky placed the bag in what he knew was its usual spot, leaning on the drawers at the left of the desk.

“Well, welcome to mi casa,” Steve said, removing his shoes and his jacket. “I guess I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.”

Bucky smiled, already kicking off his shoes and sinking into Steve’s twin bed at the far side of the room. “Guess not.” He sat up with sudden interest. “Okay. So what is it you wanted to tell me?”

Steve was silent for a moment as he draped his jacket over the desk chair. “Oh. Right.”

“Yes?” Bucky leaned toward him in anticipation and patted the bed. “Come on, make _your_ self at home.”

He paused again, chewing at his lip, searching for the right way to tell his friend what had been on his mind. “Um…”

Bucky gave him a look. “Steve.”

Steve knew what that look meant. His patience was running out. Steve went and sat beside Bucky on the cheap red, white, and blue bedding and leaned his head back against the wall. Proximity to Bucky always made Steve nervous. It was like he was afraid Bucky could read his thoughts. Perhaps he could.

“Well? What is it?” asked Bucky, nudging Steve urgently. “You know I hate it when you make me wait!”

“Okay! Okay,” said Steve, taking a deep breath and sighing it out. His eyes traced the gray carpeted floor, refusing to meet with Bucky’s intent gaze. “I’m thinking about joining the Army.”

Bucky blinked for a moment so short Steve almost didn’t sense it. “Oh. Really?”

Steve blinked back at him. “Yes.”

Bucky turned his body so that he was facing Steve fully now. “That’s great!” he said. “But… Why the Army?”

“Well I’m scared of heights, so the Air Force wasn’t an option. And I’m not a strong swimmer, so the Navy—“

“Ha-ha,” Bucky cut him off with a deadpan expression and another playful nudge. “You know what I mean.”

Steve took in a breath through his teeth and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just, you know... With all the scary stuff that’s happening with the country right now… I feel like I have to do my part to protect it.” Any trace of a smile was gone from Bucky’s face at this point. Steve could tell he didn’t know how to form the words to say what was on his mind. “What? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” said Bucky quickly, defensively. “Just… I mean, do you really think the Army is the best choice for…”

Steve felt heat rise up from his chest to his neck to his face. “For what, Bucky?”

“You know what I mean,” said Bucky. “You—you weigh what, like a hundred pounds soaking wet?”

“I can gain weight, Buck. I’ve grown a lot since high school.”

“Yeah, but you’re still fragile, Steve.”

Steve looked him in the eye with venom. “I am not fragile.”

Bucky stopped digging, knowing there was nowhere to go from here. Instead he pulled Steve into a hug. Steve was shocked stiff at first, but quickly melted into Bucky’s arms. His warm, strong embrace felt just like that day Bucky had come to his rescue when they were younger. Steve savored every moment Bucky touched him like this.

“I’m sorry,” muttered Bucky. “I just don’t want to lose you.” His voice had an uncharacteristic quiver to it. “I mean, bullies are one thing, but this is _war_ we’re talking about. I'd hate it if I couldn't be there for you.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky too and patted his back. “I know. But it’s something I just have to do. People are out there fighting... I—I have to do the same. For my country. It’s the right thing to do.”

Bucky sniffed quietly and rubbed his eye before letting Steve go. “Jeez. You really are like a man from another time,” laughed Bucky to cover up his pain.

Steve laughed too. “I guess so.”

Bucky sighed and propped his elbows up on his knees. “So your mind’s made up.” It was a statement, not a question.

Steve nodded, teardrops beginning to well in his own eyes. “Yeah.”

Bucky looked at the floor, then back to Steve. “Then I’m joining too.”

And that was when Steve knew what he was feeling was love.

* * *

Doctor Erskine agreed to start Steve on a new round of medications and experimental treatments, but he told Steve he would likely never be fit to join the Army. That only made Steve more determined. That was the kind of man Steve was—each and every time he was knocked down, he would get up and keep on fighting, harder than before.

“Could do this all day,” he would say.

That’s what made it such a joy to train him. Bucky had never known anyone to keep up with his own stamina, much less someone as unassuming as Steve. But between desperate gulps of water and puffs of his inhaler, Steve was pumping iron and sparring toe-to-toe with Bucky, and the two of them were getting closer to an even match everyday. As Steve loaded his body with carbs and protein and fought like hell through his chronic illness, his body was growing and changing, his once bony limbs now gaining more and more bulk and tone. Though the transformation was happening slowly before Bucky’s eyes, it was no less of a marvel to him.

Bucky couldn’t pinpoint the moment his affection for Steve had evolved into attraction. Maybe it was when he took notice of the small pecs, glutes, and biceps just beginning to come to life where there once were none. Maybe it was the way the rest of his body had finally grown into his face, which had always been strikingly handsome, if you asked anyone. Maybe it was that he had needed his inhaler less, or how his doctor visits had become less frequent, because he was in the best shape of his life, and his new prescriptions were working their magic. Or maybe it was the raw willpower within his best friend that had spawned this transformation—the hard work and determination to do whatever it took to reach his goal, and the new self-confidence Steve had found in his new form. But whatever it was, Bucky was experiencing stirrings in his chest and his pants he had never experienced before for Steve, and that made him feel nervous and sick. There was a disturbing undercurrent of shallowness to the whole thing, but Bucky simply couldn't help himself.

Almost every night after that day, Bucky would masturbate to the thought of Steve. In his mind, Bucky had long since abandoned the illusion of his own straightness, even though he was still well within the closet to the rest of the world and fooled around with girls on occasion to keep up appearances with his friends. Little did they know he would go to the gym to spot Little Steve (as they had affectionately dubbed him), and then go back to his dorm and touch himself to visions of Steve’s panting face, the feel of his lean muscles rippling, the sound of his lifting grunts, the salty taste of his sweat, the musky scent of his pheromones. 

His fantasies were anything but innocent. Sometimes he pictured Steve sucking him off, or fucking him, or him sucking and fucking Steve. Sometimes he’d search for gay porn that was a little on the kinkier side and imagine himself and Steve in the same situations as the performers. Bucky saw himself and Steve in every possible scenario, doing it every which way under the sun. Sometimes he would try to think of others, but no one would ever be nearly as good as his Steven. 

But every time, as he came ribbons onto his own stomach and groped for a tissue to clean himself in the dark silence of his dorm bedroom, he felt both guilty and unsatisfied.

* * *

“We made it, Buck,” Steve exclaimed breathlessly. “We’re in the Army!” 

Both young men bounced and laughed with joy, hugging each other tight. Against all odds, they had really done it.

As they pulled back from each other, Bucky’s arms lingered around Steve’s back. Their faces were so close to each other, they could feel each other’s breath. Bucky looked Steve in his bright blue eyes, which were clearly wondering what Bucky was doing, then down to his lips, so pink, so full, and ever so slightly parted. They were practically begging.

Without thinking, Bucky’s lips met Steve’s, and they didn’t let go.

Steve made a noise and dropped his acceptance letter out of surprise. Bucky pulled away from him, and they watched each other for an eternity with wide eyes. 

“Sorry, I…” Bucky whispered as he crunched the calculations in his head: I got caught up in the moment? I went drinking before I got here? I was brainwashed and placed under mind control?

He didn’t have to say a word. Steve snatched him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back into a long, deep, impassioned kiss. A kiss to show Bucky just how long and how badly he’d wanted to do this. It was awkward—too much tooth and tongue—but it was Steve’s first kiss and he was determined to get better at it.

Bucky’s hands found their way around Steve’s waist and pulled him in closer as they explored each other’s mouths for the first time, crashing tongues and devouring lips in a frenzy. They were two men dying of thirst in a desert, and they had found water in each other. 

This only made it harder to stop themselves when they found their way to Steve’s bed. Steve blindly backed into his tiny mattress and fell back on top of it, and Bucky fell on top of him. His hips jerked into Steve’s hips on instinct, causing Steve to gasp and moan at the foreign pleasure. Steve could feel through the denim that they were both already hard, and his heart pounded with excitement at the thought of whatever might happen next.

Bucky kissed at Steve’s neck and slipped a hand up his shirt, groaning at the feeling of the hard abs beneath his fingertips. When he found a nipple and toyed with it, Steve’s reaction was instant—a loud moan, an arch in his back, a jump in the crotch of his too-tight jeans. Bucky shushed him immediately with a hand over his mouth. “You have to be quiet. Neighbors.”

Steve nodded with a soft whimper, and his eyes rolled back as Bucky’s tongue flicked over his nipple. Bucky tore the shirt off of Steve so he could better service his body with his tongue. Steve gave more heavy breaths and more labored whimpers as Bucky teased his nipples with his wet lips and went to work on his belt with his shaky hands. Steve bit his lip and lifted his hips so his pants could come off as quickly as possible. His tight white underwear was soaked wet with precum, his bulge still twitching in anticipation. This was more attention than his body had _ever_ received, and the more he got, the more he wanted—the more he _needed._

Bucky dropped Steve’s jeans on the bedroom floor and reached for the waistband of his briefs, pulling them down much too slowly for Steve's liking. When Steve’s erection sprang free and slapped back against his stomach, Bucky raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’ve been holding out on me, Rogers,” he said with a smirk.

Steve’s face was beet red as Bucky closed his mouth around the head of his dick and began to suck up and down the shaft. To stifle his own moans, Steve had to grab the nearest pillow and bite it. The feeling of Bucky’s hot, slick mouth wrapped around the length of his dick was so very different from the feeling of his own hand. It shocked him how incredibly good it felt. 

It took less than a minute before he could feel his pleasure coming to its peak. As his pulse quickened and his body started twitching, he took the drooly pillow from his mouth to warn Bucky. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna…!”

With a cry like his soul had just escaped through his mouth, he spilled himself into Bucky’s throat, and Bucky swallowed every sweet droplet of cum that Steve had to offer. Bucky reached into his own pants, freeing his own throbbing cock, and jerked himself off at a desperate pace. It didn’t take long for him to shoot his cum all over Steve’s naked chest, accidentally splashing his chin with it.

They both panted with exhaustion in the aftermath. Steve was utterly immobile, blinking at the ceiling. As Bucky searched for a towel to clean him off, he felt the same shame wash over him as he did back when this was just a dream. Now that it was reality, Bucky couldn’t help but feel like he had soiled something innocent—an angel he was never meant to touch.

“We…” Steve panted shakily, finally breaking the silence.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky began as he wiped the cum off of him.

“We have to do this again,” Steve finished with a soft laugh.

Bucky laughed too, in relief.

* * *

In the months leading up to their departure, Steve and Bucky were attached at the hip. They would do all the things they used to do—movies, amusement parks, street food, drawing, tech expos—but now with an entirely new context.

They had sex. A lot. Bucky wasn’t insistent, but Steve had a surprisingly insatiable sexual appetite. Blame it on the testosterone boost he got from working out? Bucky would usually jerk him or suck him off. It was easy for Bucky to get him off quickly, and Bucky took pride in beating his own personal records. Occasionally Steve would try to do the same to Bucky, who would have to coach him not to use his teeth, and not to grip too loose or too tight. Bucky had received a number of blowjobs and handjobs in his life, and even given a few, so he had some idea of how they were supposed to be done. Steve was a quick student, and before long, he had figured out what made Bucky tick—which spots to touch, and how to move his tongue to bring Bucky to orgasm and leave him a shuddering mess on the sheets. 

Steve had only ever been penetrated by his own fingers, and when they were about to try anal for the first time, Bucky asked him if he was sure he was the one Steve wanted to do it with. Steve assured him there was no one else in the world he would rather have fucking him than Bucky. This made Bucky feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Steve’s hole was so tight and tense, Bucky physically could not enter him. There was a lot of ass eating, a fair amount of fingering, and a shit-ton of lube involved before Bucky was ready to call it quits. But Steve insisted Bucky lay down while he tried to sit on it.

That really did the trick, and everything clicked together like magic. The force of gravity pulled Steve down onto Bucky, and there was a twinge of pain as Bucky’s dick slipped inside of him, just a little too fast. But as Steve learned to breathe and relax around the intrusion, he began to see just what the fuss was about anal sex. Bucky watched Steve’s face morph from agony to discomfort to ease to ecstasy as Bucky’s dick pressed against that sweet, sweet spot inside him. Suddenly the world made sense.

Steve rode him for as long as he could before he sprayed all over Bucky’s stomach. As he collapsed into Bucky’s arms, Bucky quickly pulled out of him and shot his seed up onto Steve’s back. They lay there for a while in that same position, just covered in each other’s jizz and sweat.

“You know we can’t do this anymore once we go,” breathed Bucky. “We’ll be living in the barracks. Everyone will be able to see us.”

* * *

So it happened in the bushes instead. There was a quiet slap of balls against ass as Steve took him doggy style. Their tight green shirts were covered in sweat and sand from the desert heat, their dog tags jangling against their chests with each powerful pump of their hips, their camouflage uniform pants pulled down just low enough so that their most private parts could meet. 

“Jesus, Steve, hurry up.” Bucky laughed breathlessly as Steve pounded deep into him without mercy. "You know I hate it when you make me wait."

“I’m close,” breathed Steve quietly.

“Cum inside me,” Bucky breathed back.

Steve gave in at once, moaning softly as he hugged his lover from behind and thrusted into him one last time, shuddering as he filled him up with his load. He’d lost track of how many days it had been since he last came. The evidence was damning as white drops began to trickle out of Bucky onto the dirt below.

As always, they stayed frozen in place for a moment before they remembered they had to move. They shared a kiss, and Bucky pushed Steve’s massive, softening dick out of him before standing up and pulling his pants back up. 

“Do you need a moment to…” Steve started to ask.

“No,” said Bucky with a devilish smirk. “I like having you in me all day. It's like our dirty little secret.”

He winked, and Steve felt a rush of heat travel throughout his body. “That is so hot,” he said. He was almost ready to fuck him a second time, right then and there, but instead he stood up and fixed his own clothes, kissing Bucky again as he fastened his belt. “Well, we should probably get back before the other guys discover our 'dirty little secret,' and we get dishonorably discharged.”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Bucky with a laugh, tucking in his shirt. “We have a mission brief today.”

After the two carefully exited the bushes one-by-one, they made their way back to camp just in time for the official call to attention. They stood in perfect rows before Colonel Phillips, who was flanked by Sergeant Duffy (whom Bucky wanted to kill for putting Steve through hell during training, even though Bucky had to admit, Duffy had given Steve the final push he needed to become the physically and mentally strong man he was today), and Agent Carter (whom he caught winking at Steve, who smiled back, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the sight of two people able to flirt so openly; was this how Steve had felt for all those years, watching Bucky go out with one girl after another?)

* * *

The mission seemed doable: Board an enemy train and capture one of their top scientists.

But there was an ambush.

Steve and Bucky were separated, and both came under fire. With some quick thinking, they were able to fight off the enemy soldiers and escape to the roof of the train. 

There was an explosion from below, and the force of it threw them both across the roof. Steve rolled just a little bit farther than Bucky, almost over the edge of the train. In a split second, Bucky grabbed Steve by the wrist and pulled him back onto the train, knocking himself off-balance until he found himself clinging to the thin railing on the side of the train by the four fingers of his right hand.

Steve, still shell-shocked from the blast, scrambled to his feet and ran to grab Bucky’s hand.

He was a second too late.

The rest of his unit had to drag him kicking and screaming off the train so that they could retreat.

* * *

They never recovered Bucky’s body, but they did recover something from his belongings: a small black velvet box with Steve’s name on it.

Steve knew to only open it once he was in private.

Inside the box was a plain gold ring. 

The tears burned as they fell, and the sobs hollowed out his lungs as he hugged the ring box close to himself and rocked back and forth, like a child crying alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for the next chapter where we fast-forward to present day!


	2. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was no wonder what had blossomed from that chance encounter; they had more in common than they ever could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of four, in which Steve and Sam finally meet.

When Sam was 16 years old, he lost his father to the war. When he was 18, he lost his mother to gun violence. He had to claw his way up from there just to stay alive.

His father had always warned Sam he would have to work “twice as hard for half the credit” in this world, and as Sam fought through the pain of orphanhood to put himself through college and enter the Air Force, he realized his father was right. The way he was treated, both by his higher-ups and his equals, sometimes made him want to quit. 

Then came Riley the test pilot. 

He was Sam’s wingman. An ordinary guy if you asked anyone else, but to Sam, he was absolutely everything. 

There are some things you just know. For example, as soon as Riley had joined Sam’s unit, Sam knew he was attracted to him—his slender-muscled body, the short brown hair, those big brown eyes, that adorable dorky smile. As soon as they spoke for the first time, Sam knew Riley was attracted to him too. There was some sort of glint in his eyes. Some gravity that drew them together. A palpable tension in their first handshake—like he would have pulled him in right then and there if not for the rest of their unit standing around them.

And as soon as they were alone, Sam knew they were going to fuck. 

It was truly just sex at first. The military was more lax these days on same-sex attraction, but that didn’t exactly mean two pararescue troopers could just walk around holding hands and sucking each other’s dicks. So they took advantage of any moments of privacy they could. And boy did they take advantage. They took advantage of the bed when no one was around, and Sam remembered fondly the first time he entered Riley, who had at first balked at Sam’s size, but was soon opened up to a whole new world of pleasure. They took advantage of the night in the blind spots of the deck of their aircraft carrier, and Sam also remembered fondly the first time Riley entered him, with such a sweet softness it felt more like love-making than a hookup. They must have taken advantage of every bathroom and supply closet on base—quick and silent handjobs that produced more of a mess than they were prepared to clean up. They once even took advantage of Sam’s fighter jet (which was in plain view, which set off Riley’s inner exhibitionist), under the guise of fixing a technical problem with its control panel. 

“You are so wild,” Sam told him each time as he tucked his dick back into his uniform, as if it hadn’t been at least half his idea to do this in the first place.

“You _make_ me wild,” Riley would reply with that stupid little grin of his, now covered in cum, and Sam would kiss him on his smiling lips and lick his own clean.

It was in the afterglow of one of their closet meetings that Riley finally asked if Sam wanted to hang out _outside_ of sex. Sam could only smile at the question. Of course! Finally!

Every day they would wake up and find each other to say good morning. Every meal, they would eat together and talk about their day—about nothing. They were going through all the same things, and yet they always found something to discuss—some different angle of the same picture—some way to make the whole thing a joke. When they would run drills, they would share knowing glances as they passed each other on the track. Everyone would remark how competitive they were with each other—and Sam Wilson was always _especially_ competitive. That man could not stand to lose, and Riley was his perfect match in every way, which meant he lost approximately 50% of the time. 50% of the time, this frustrated him. 50% of the time, it turned him on.

Time passed, and it was obviously not just sex anymore. In fact, Sam occasionally caught himself imagining the life he would have with Riley after the war. Maybe they would move in together. Get a dog. A kid. Maybe they would travel the world. Maybe they would get married. It was legal now, after all. The possibilities weren’t just endless; they were frightening. It frightened Sam to think he could suddenly care about one person so much, that he would drop everything just to build a life with them. That it would literally kill him if anything bad ever happened to them.

There are some things you just know, and Sam knew he was falling in love.

Sam took flight that night with Riley flying at his side. It was something they’d done more times than they could count. A rescue operation. Standard procedure. Totally run-of-the-mill. Practically routine at this point. But Sam and Riley were some of the best pilots in the sky, and they were the only men for the job.

No one saw the missile coming—all Sam saw was the fiery burst behind him. The horror scene as metal ripped apart like paper, sending black plumes of smoke and debris screaming into the clouds as the plane that Riley flew careened from the darkened sky to the abyss of the earth. 

The sound that came from Sam’s mouth was loud enough to shatter the glass of his cockpit, but Riley could not hear him. As Riley plummeted to a blazing crash like a star fallen from the heavens, Sam could only watch. And watch. And watch. All those memories. Their jokes. Their kisses. Their new life together. That damned _smile_. Up in smoke. 

His heart torn from his chest, Sam nearly let his jet fall into a nosedive. How he longed to follow Riley into that good night. Tears and snot and sweat and spit streamed from his face, and he was drowning in it, utterly unable to breathe. If that was where Riley was going, Sam would be there too. 

Control shouted hysterics into Sam’s headset. Sam did not hear them. His world had become so noisy, it was almost noiseless.

But as he fell, something did manage to get through: A whisper—a quiet voice from within that urged him to keep flying forward. Maybe he simply remembered his duty to his country—to his people. Maybe he was able to convince himself there are still things worth fighting for. Sam finished his mission and made it back home alive, but he wouldn’t know for years to come why he had bothered. He wouldn’t know for years to come why anyone would keep on living in a world where Riley was not.

* * *

“On your left,” came a voice from behind him while he was out on his morning run.

Sam turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of his face. Tall. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, strikingly handsome features, and shirtless to show off more muscles than anyone could ever need. All this, _and_ he was glistening with sweat in the summer sun. The lovechild of a Ken doll and a G.I. Joe. 

He was absolutely perfect.

Yuck.

Still, the bubble butt that filled out the man’s running shorts (which were short enough that Sam was sure he was wearing them just for attention) was one of the thickest and juiciest things he had ever seen, and he didn’t mind staring at it as it bounced away from him, even if it belonged to someone who otherwise wasn’t his type. Sam smiled to himself and continued his run after the stranger had jogged out of his line of sight.

A few minutes passed.

“On your left,” G.I. Ken said as he lapped Sam a second time. A mix of amusement and childlike anger bubbled up in Sam’s chest, but he remained calm. At least on the outside.

It wasn’t until the third “On your left” that Sam lost his cool. Not to be outdone by this egregiously perfect stranger, he forced his tired legs to speed up until he was beside the man. 

“You got my attention,” Sam said in between heavy breaths.

The other man smiled at him and stopped running, looking satisfied.

“You look like you need a medic,” G.I Ken quipped, handing Sam a bottle of water as the two men rested under a shady tree by the Reflecting Pool. 

“A comedian too,” panted Sam after taking a swig of water. “Consider me charmed.”

“I’ve been trying to get better at flirting,” the stranger smirked, pulling his gray T-shirt from his waistband and wiping his face with it. “Is it working?”

Sam laughed out of surprise. “I get it. When you look like that, I bet you don’t have to flirt very often.”

The man huffed a laugh through his nose, then looked down at Sam’s chest. “What unit were you in?”

Sam glanced down at his own gray T-shirt, having forgotten the **U.S. AIR FORCE** logo emblazoned across his heart. “58th Pararescue.” He looked at the grass. “But now I’m working down at the VA.” He rose to his feet and offered his hand. “What’s your name? I’m Sam.”

“Hi Sam. I’m Steve,” said G.I. Ken, accepting his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Sam smiled, revealing a thin gap between his two front teeth. 

Steve smiled too, a strange fluttering in his stomach, and had to take a deep breath to maintain his composure. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“How long did you serve?” asked Sam, figuring he should fire a question back.

Steve squinted up at the Washington Monument. “Two tours.”

“Same here,” chuckled Sam. And then he tilted his head. “So why did you decide to pick on me of all people?”

Steve shrugged, not making eye contact. “You were cute.”

Sam just had to smile at that. His cheek muscles contracted on their own, suddenly hot and flushed from the attention. “You should come down to the VA sometime. I specialize in veterans with PTSD, and I know anyone who runs as fast as you is running away from something,” he laughed.

Steve’s smile fell for half a moment, and then it came back up with a hearty laugh of his own. He pulled out his smartphone. “Could I possibly get your number?”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you planning to come to one of my talks?”

Steve shrugged, still grinning. “That, and maybe more.”

Sam licked his lips. “202…”

* * *

Steve listened transfixed to Sam’s talk, only taking his eyes off the man to blink. He didn’t always hear what he said; every few minutes he would find himself just studying Sam’s features, imagining what he would do with him, given the chance. He had the most beautiful brown skin—practically glowing—stunning cheekbones, and the fullest, most kissable lips he’d ever seen. And God, that _voice._ It soothed him like warm honey in chamomile tea. It made the hour-long talk pass like seconds. 

“So,” said Sam after he was done answering questions. “What did you think?”

Though Steve had been distracted for much of the hour, he had absorbed Sam’s message: War takes everything from us, and it’s up to us to seek help so we can pick up the pieces after.

“Would you like to talk over lunch?”

* * *

Sam decided on a cheap sandwich place nearby. It was there, with a full stomach, that Steve decided to tell him everything—everything about his depressing life. Everything about his rough childhood. About the war. About Bucky. The romantic tragedy of the lover he had lost in the line of duty. Steve didn’t talk about Bucky with anyone but his closest friends, but he was a dam broken by Sam’s eyes, which had pierced him through and brought him comfort at the same time. An ocean of fears, sorrows, and survivor’s remorse washed over Sam. Steve apologized for dumping all this onto Sam, but Sam would not let him.

Steve had turned to drinking not long after he returned to the States, even though it only ever seemed to make him feel worse. He walked the empty halls of his home and drank. Just drank. Sometimes he would spend days upon days in his bed with the blinds drawn closed. It was at his lowest point that Natasha had stepped in to peel him up off his bedroom floor like a lifeless doll so he could get help. Sam already liked Natasha from the stories Steve would tell him. She seemed like a true friend—the kind of person who was selfless because of the pain she herself had been through.

Recovery had started slow for Steve, and in truth, the pain of his loss never left him. But everyday, as time crept on at a pace of its own choosing, living with it got just a little bit easier.

Sam was stunned. Not just at how sad the story of Steve’s life was, but at how looking at someone so different from him could be just like looking into a mirror.

So Sam told him everything too. How he had lost both of his parents. How even after he thought he had nothing left to lose, he had lost Riley. How the guilt still wrenched his guts to this day. How hard these losses had made it to connect with someone without being afraid they’d be gone tomorrow. How he had been able to move on and live his life, but how the smallest things would remind him of Riley’s eyes, and he would break down all over again. How he had turned to drinking. How he never wanted to leave the darkness of his bedroom. How at his lowest point his friends had peeled him off the floor to get him help. How recovery had started slow, and he knew deep down that the pain would never leave him, but everyday, it would get a little easier. How he got degrees in social work so he could help people who were struggling like him. People who were struggling like Steve.

Steve hung on his every word, just like he had when Sam was giving his talk at the VA. He reached across the table to hold his hand. Sam stroked the back of Steve’s hand with his thumb and smiled.

* * *

Their first kiss was after their second date—dinner at a nice steakhouse followed by _The Force Awakens_. Steve had gotten so adorably passionate discussing the lightsaber battle, Sam could hardly help himself. “Sorry. I know you’re old fashioned,” Sam said after their lips had parted. “But I just couldn’t wait until the third one.”

Steve obviously didn’t mind; he parked his car in front of Sam’s apartment, and the two of them made out there for over half an hour. 

It was not Steve’s first time kissing someone since Bucky. When Steve thought he was getting better and felt ready to date again, he found out he was still vulnerable on the inside. His only “boyfriend” had been an older man who was as hot and wealthy as he was arrogant and vain, but even they had never been official. They had happened upon each other by chance on a late night out, when Natasha recognized the man as genius playboy billionaire philanthropist Tony Stark, for whom she used to work. Tony was surrounded by a posse of gorgeous men, most of whom were noticeably younger, but Steve had caught his eye. 

Steve noticed he was catching eyes a lot more often nowadays. 

“Vodka soda, since you’re obviously watching your figure,” Tony said, handing the drink to Steve with a smirk as he eyed the man’s physique. 

“I don’t drink, but thanks,” Steve replied flatly.

“More for me,” Tony said immediately, downing the entire glass. “You wanna get out of here?”

Steve turned to Natasha, who was chatting with Bruce and Clint (who had been watching Tony and Steve intently the whole time), and Okoye and Carol and Wanda (who showed no interest in Tony whatsoever). Natasha was doing a good job of pretending not to listen. She gave Steve a silent nod of encouragement and a stealthy thumbs-up. She had been telling him to get outside his comfort zone for a long time. Maybe tonight was the night.

Steve got the message and turned back to face Tony.

Tony and Steve fucked hard that night on a king size, silk-sheet-covered, memory foam mattress—one of many beds in many bedrooms in Tony’s many homes. It was some of the best sex Steve had ever had. Screaming, moaning, multi-orgasmic sex. Tony was cocky, but he was _not_ all talk; he was a skilled, experienced lover, and he pulled tricks on Steve that left him utterly speechless. 

But Bucky’s face would not leave Steve’s head, which reminded him even in the heights of his physical bliss that the sex was meaningless. 

Still, they kept in contact after what Steve had fully expected to be a one-night stand. The sex, of course, stayed great, but Tony made Steve believe he saw more in him. Tony took him on many, many _very_ extravagant dates, one of which involved a helicopter, and he always paid for everything. Holidays and birthdays were always good for pricey gifts and exotic vacations. But Steve really hated the excess—the glitz and glam of it all—almost as much as he hated how Tony only ever seemed to compliment him on his body. Steve loved the attention, sure, but he had always just wanted someone to connect with on an emotional level. That’s why Tony and Steve fought constantly, aside from Steve’s “high-and-mighty, holier-than-thou” attitude, and Tony always thinking he was the smartest man in the room and just generally being an asshole to everyone. 

Tony once told Steve he was just like his ex Rhodey—a fellow military man who was all uptight and no fun. Steve laughed to himself, because Tony was nothing like his ex Bucky; Bucky was as brave as he was kind, and he actually gave a fuck what other people thought—what _Steve_ thought. Maybe that was the problem with Tony.

Steve and Tony were both stubborn and prideful people, and they both wanted something different out of their relationship. Steve moved too fast for Tony, and the thought of settling down scared him more than the thought of dying. Tony didn’t want to commit, and in Steve’s mind, that meant he wanted to keep Steve around as a plaything rather than a husband while Tony gallivanted with whichever pretty young thing his heart desired that day. This is what ultimately caused things to end. But Steve took the phrase, “We can still be friends,” quite literally, and still saw Tony on a regular basis, even though Tony was now dating Steve’s good friend Bruce.

It was also not Sam’s first time since Riley. As he finally got back into the swing of the dating scene, he found connecting with other people to be an impossible task. When he kept his past to himself, his partners would accuse him of being distant and closed-off. When he was up-front about his trauma, people would duck out of his life, saying he had “too much drama, too much baggage.” Or worse, they would be _too_ helpful, and start to handle him differently. With kid gloves. And nothing infuriated Sam more than that.

He had tried all the dating apps on the App Store. Grindr. Tinder. Scruff. Hinge. He found most of the people there were either uninteresting or unavailable; they were mostly useful to keep on his phone just for quick hookups. Sam had charm, sure, but he also had a handsome face, a rockin’ gym body, and a monster of a dick. All it took was a picture, and the boys would come flocking. There was something appealing about the ease of it. Whenever he was feeling horny, there was always—ALWAYS some attractive guy waiting in the wings to help him get his rocks off.

Sometimes he found people to take on actual dates, or at least become friends with benefits. But as much fun as he had with these men, the idea of a serious, committed, long-term, monogamous relationship was becoming a ridiculous notion to him. It grew more and more ridiculous with every swipe, every tap, every chat, every random, no-strings-attached meeting he had. He would fuck their brains out. They would fuck his feelings out. For years, he was okay with that. Something had to help him forget.

Sam found comfort in other men’s bodies, but he was afraid now to connect with their hearts. Sex was a crutch. A band-aid. A placebo. A physical way of filling an emotional hole.

So no, it wasn’t the first time Steve or Sam had kissed anyone since Bucky and Riley died. 

But it was the first kiss that had actually made them feel something.

Sam’s hands searched Steve’s body urgently as he kissed him, heavy-petting his chest and his sides, running down his abdomen, inching curiously toward his bulging jeans.

Steve broke the kiss like a diver up for air. “Sam, I—I don’t want to go too fast,” he said in a low, husky voice as he caressed Sam’s jawline. “I want to do this right with you.”

“I do too,” Sam sighed, and it almost sounded like relief. “But damn, do you make it hard to control myself.”

Steve chuckled. “Believe me, I’m having just as hard a time as you are.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” grinned Sam, grabbing Steve’s hard package and giving it a jiggle.

“Hey!” laughed Steve, playfully slapping Sam’s hand away. “Don’t make it any harder than it has to be!”

“Fine,” smiled Sam, making a dramatic show of keeping his hands to himself. “But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to promise me we’ll see each other again soon.” He captured Steve’s chin and pulled his face toward his own. 

“That’s an easy promise to make,” said Steve, planting a sweet peck on Sam’s feather-soft lips.

“You’re a good kisser,” remarked Sam, which made Steve smile and kiss him again. He had worked on that.

* * *

On their third date, they got Starbucks and walked to the park. They were both morning people; perhaps the military had done that to them. They sat on the bench and sipped their coffees and talked about life as they enjoyed the last remnants of summer warmth before the season began to fade into fall.

“Are you free tonight?” Steve asked.

“I think I can fit you in,” winked Sam.

Steve laughed. “Come to my place tonight. We don’t have to do anything—just watch Netflix or something.”

Sam lifted his brow, making bedroom eyes at Steve. “Oh, a little Netflix and chill, huh?” he teased.

“Uh, yes?” said Steve, clueless. “Why the face?”

“You haven’t seen that meme on Twitter?”

“I don’t have a Twitter,” shrugged Steve. “Should I? I thought that was for Millennials.”

Sam could only laugh. “I—…. Never mind. Just look it up.” He kissed Steve three times in quick succession. The public display of affection gave Steve an immediate thrill. Sam stood up. “We’d better get going or we’ll both be late.”

“Hey! You’re really not going to tell me what it means?”

Already walking ahead, Sam laughed back at him.

* * *

Steve had just showered and dressed when his phone buzzed, which made his heart leap. Sam was here. 

Sam held up a family-size bag of kettle corn and a 2-liter bottle of Coca-Cola as he entered. “I know neither of us is really drinking right now, so I brought something super healthy instead.”

“Thanks, babe,” Steve laughed and kissed Sam on the lips.

Sam raised his eyebrows, leaving his shoes at the door. “Oh I’m _babe_ now.”

“Don’t think much of it,” teased Steve, grabbing Sam’s snacks and walking toward the coffee table, causing Sam to laugh indignantly. “Welcome to mi casa,” Steve said, setting down the bag and bottle and gesturing toward the couch, which was stacked neatly with pillows and blankets. “I hope you’re ready for a wild night of ‘Netflix and Chill.’”

Sam laughed, “Did you look it up?”

“I did,” Steve laughed back, then hurriedly added, “But that doesn’t mean we’re having sex. Just literal Netflix and chill.”

“Of course,” said Sam, rubbing his hands together as he plopped down on the couch. He was now eye-level with Steve’s crotch, and from the visible dick print that was displayed in high relief in Steve’s gray sweatpants, Sam drew two conclusions: Steve was hung like a horse, and he was not wearing any underwear. He chose to ignore the blood he felt jolt into his own penis and mentally changed the subject. “Yup, I am so ready. Did you decide what we’re watching yet?”

Steve sat down beside Sam and draped a soft American flag blanket over both of their laps, to which Sam sighed, relieved Steve couldn’t see his growing boner. “Eh, why don’t you decide?" Steve offered. "You’re better at this stuff than me.”

“Hmm,” pondered Sam as he reached for the remote. " _Sense8_ seems like it would be up your alley.”

“Never heard of it.” Steve poured them each a glass of soda and popped open the popcorn bag.

“Thank you,” Sam said as Steve passed him his glass. “ _Kimmy Schmidt_ is pretty funny. _Paris Is Burning_?” He took a sip.

“Sounds a little heavy,” replied Steve after he took a sip too. “Hey, what’s… _Bojack Horseman_? A cartoon about a horse couldn’t possibly be depressing, right?”

Sam laughed. “ _The Babadook_?”

“Looks like horror,” Steve said with a mouth full of popcorn. “I’m not into that. _Hot Fuzz_?” 

“A classic. _Orange is the New Black_?”

“Heard a lot of talk about that one. All good things. Or, hey, what about _Daredevil_?”

“Reminds me too much of somebody I used to date,” Sam shuddered. 

“Oh, sorry. _Batman and Robin_? _Glee_?”

“Campy. Very campy. Or maybe _Scandal._ I don’t think the government works like that, but damn do I love me some Olivia Pope.”

Steve laughed and kissed Sam again. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t really care what we watch. I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

Sam smiled back. “Well that’s a good sign. I feel the same way.” He placed a hand on Steve’s blanketed leg and scrolled back to the top of the list. “Let’s settle on _Sense8_. If we start a series, I figure it’ll give us more of an excuse to do this again.”

Steve smiled. “ _Sense8_ it is.”

* * *

Sam’s first instinct was right; the show was right up Steve’s alley. He loved the pace and the plot and the colorful cast, but mostly he was fascinated by the concept of the sensates—people who were so deeply connected, they could feel each other’s feelings. Listening to Steve’s opinions, Sam leaned on him and snuggled up to his chest, and Steve felt that inexplicable flutter inside himself again.

As the episodes went on, revealing more full-frontal male nudity and sex, Steve stroked Sam’s hair, running his fingertips down his shoulder and over his arm. The actors were admittedly beautiful, but Steve had someone more beautiful in his lap. The thought made him shift uncomfortably. There was a jump in his sweatpants that he hoped Sam hadn’t felt. 

Considering he was lying on Steve’s lap, yes, Sam had felt it. “Oh,” he smiled up at Steve. “Someone’s getting excited.”

Steve looked away, blushing and grinning. “Well it’s your fault.”

Sam propped himself up on his elbow and grabbed Steve by the tent in his pants, and Steve threw his head back and moaned with pleasure as his hips bucked forward into that sweet touch. Sam chuckled. “Well since it’s my fault, do you want me to fix it?”

Steve looked Sam in the eye, knowing there was no way for him to say no to such an offer. So he nodded. “Yeah.”

Sam captured Steve’s lips with his own at once, not letting go of Steve’s concealed erection, and the two men breathed each other in desperately. Steve grabbed a handful of Sam’s muscled ass as Sam went to work on Steve’s neck, which was so sensitive that the slightest touch made him moan and leak precum into his pants. As Sam lifted the shirt from Steve’s body, he paused to kiss every inch of skin as it revealed itself to him. By the time Sam had reached Steve’s waist, Steve was ready to burst. His heart pounded. It had been so long since the last time he was touched, and it was so rare for him to touch himself. It made for a heightened experience, but an unfortunately quick orgasm.

Sam removed Steve’s sweatpants to find that both his suspicions were correct: Steve was hung like a horse, and he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Sam smiled as he pumped Steve’s big dick with one hand and fondled his balls with the other. Steve was breathing heavily, knowing his climax was already imminent. 

He reached for Sam’s hand and stopped it, and Sam looked perplexed. “You’re gonna make me cum,” Steve explained with a breathy laugh.

Sam tried to retract his hand, but Steve didn’t let go of his wrist. Instead he pulled him up onto the couch and sat him down. Now it would be his turn. Steve kissed him and then wasted no time on removing Sam’s shirt. His body was a work of pure art, big sinewy muscles rippling all over his torso, highlighted by his beautiful brown skin. Steve breathed out with a small smile. It was almost a relief to finally see Sam like this, half-naked and all his to do with as he pleased. Steve flicked Sam’s nipple with his tongue, nipping it gently with the tips of his teeth and then sucking on it with a fervent hunger. Sam arched toward him, filled with a wanton lust, like he _needed_ Steve’s touch to keep on living. 

Knowing Sam was ready, Steve removed Sam’s shorts, finding, to his pleasant surprise, that Sam was also not wearing any underwear, and had what he could only describe as the largest penis he had ever seen in his life.

“Holy shit,” Steve said with eyes wide as it flopped out of Sam’s shorts and stood at attention. “Excuse the language.”

Sam gave him a cocky smirk. “You like it?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve said, hypnotized, grasping the enormous thing and giving it a stroke. “But how am I ever gonna fit this thing inside me?”

Sam laughed with embarrassment and shrugged. “You can start with your mouth.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Steve licked his lips and opened his mouth to let Sam in, and Sam let out a small gasp. Even with the head of Sam’s dick pressed against the very back of Steve’s throat (which made him gag), his mouth could only reach about halfway down the shaft. Sam didn’t care; as Steve’s lips and tongue glided over the sensitive flesh, hot moans and curse words glided out of Sam’s mouth. 

Steve was a worshipper and Sam was his idol, savoring every inch of him as if it was his first—his last. There was a poetry to it—to discovering something he’d done a hundred times with someone new, which made it feel like something new. Steve slobbered over the top half of Sam’s lengthy cock and cranked with both hands the base, which his mouth couldn’t reach. The sensations overwhelmed Sam, and he moaned one last time before he reached the edge. “Ohh Steve,” he breathed. “I’m about to cum. Oh fuck…”

Steve took Sam in as deep as he could manage and swallowed every ounce of Sam’s deliciousness. When Sam's body went from tense to limp, Steve removed him from his mouth with a pop and began to lick him clean. Sam convulsed at the feeling, his post-orgasmic penis far too sensitive to be touched. Steve laughed and ceased his torture, kissing Sam with his cum-flavored lips and tongue. 

“Wow,” said Sam.

Steve kissed him again and again before grabbing Sam up like a damsel and carrying him to the bedroom. 

“Where are you taking me?” Sam laughed, hooking an arm around Steve’s neck for support.

Steve smiled as he used a hand to throw back the comforter and the top sheet. He placed Sam down carefully in the space he had created and tucked him in before climbing into bed behind him, becoming the big spoon.

“What about you?” Sam said, reaching behind himself to touch Steve’s cock, still fully erect.

Steve shrugged. “I’ll save it for next time.”

They both smiled, and they fell asleep just like that, cuddling naked and listening to the sound of the TV from the other room.

Steve didn’t think about Bucky until the next morning.

The image of his face appeared to him as he woke up. It came with a pang of guilt. But Natasha’s words echoed in his mind, and he believed them to be true:

“Bucky would have wanted this.”

Steve cuddled closer to Sam.

* * *

They spent the next few seasons like this, and then the next few years. Steve let his hair grow out—on his head, his face, and his body, and though he was self-conscious about the change, he had never looked sexier in Sam’s eyes. Steve grew comfortable being his true self when he was around Sam.

Both men were deeply wounded by their time in the military. By their childhoods. By Riley and Bucky. By other past lovers. They were wounds so impactful that they would leave permanent scars.

But Steve’s scars fit into Sam’s scars like puzzle pieces, and together they made two halves of a whole picture.

Hardship has a way of tearing people apart, but sometimes, it brings people closer.

* * *

There are some things you just know, and Steve knew he was falling in love. This was something he was sure he would never be able to do again.

On the morning of one New Year’s Day, when Sam and Steve both had nothing they had to do, Sam awoke beside Steve to the sounds of Marvin Gaye. Steve was smiling and holding something in his hand, outstretched toward Sam. It took Sam a few moments of rubbing his blurry eyes before he could make out what the object was.

A plain gold ring.

Sam sat up in shock. “Are you serious?”

Steve smiled and nodded. “About five years ago, I met somebody who was perfect for me in ways I didn’t even know at the start, and now that he’s in my life, I know I never want him to leave. So will you do me the honor of—“

“Yes.” Sam kissed him. Steve placed the ring on Sam’s finger, and tears of joyful surprise glistened in Sam's eyes. “Wow,” he whispered, watching the metal gleam in the morning sunlight. “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

Steve kissed the ring on his finger and looked up at Sam with smiling eyes. “Well now there’s only one thing left to do,” Steve said.

“What’s that?” asked Sam, stroking Steve’s new beard with his fingertips, enjoying its rough texture.

Steve raised an eyebrow at him, and just on cue, _Let’s Get It On_ began to play on the speakers. “Consummate the engagement?”

Sam busted out laughing. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

“I won’t.” Steve smirked cockily and rolled on top of Sam. Steve looked so incredibly sexy like this: His hair, which had been perfectly coiffed and filled with product last night for Tony’s New Year’s Eve festivities now hung in his face in a tangled and sweaty mess (of Sam’s own creation). His face was flushed with arousal. His muscular, hairy chest rose and fell with anticipation. Steve had never been so perfect in Sam’s eyes as he was in this moment.

Steve began to kiss Sam, this time more lovingly than he ever had before, and both men quickly grew erect at the feeling of their dicks touching each other under the covers. Steve trailed light, wet kisses down Sam’s torso until he reached the thin patch of pubic hair just below his waistline, in which he buried his nose so he could take in Sam’s musky scent. Steve pulled back the white cotton sheets, releasing Sam’s big hard cock onto his stomach with a precum-wet slap.

Steve grabbed it and began to stroke it, eliciting a pleasured hum from Sam’s lips. Steve began to suck, and Sam arched his back, moving himself deeper into Steve’s wet, hot mouth. It felt so good, Sam could hardly stand it. He buried his fingers in Steve's hair, grabbing it by the fistful. After a moment, Steve dragged his slick tongue down the shaft and licked and sucked Sam’s sensitive balls, throwing him into a tizzy. Then Steve lifted Sam’s legs up and threw his face into Sam’s ass, rimming his puckered hole with his tongue and making Sam scream with pleasure. Steve took his time with it, relishing the flavor. He knew how much Sam loved it when he ate his ass, and he was determined to give him the best damned rimjob of his life. Judging by the sounds Sam made, it seemed to be working. He shoved his tongue inside and moved it around, making Sam moan and squirm as one of Steve’s hands began to jack him off again. Steve’s other hand reached down to his own rock-hard cock and began stroking it. Sam dripped precum all over Steve’s fingers, and Steve licked it off greedily, moving up to kiss Sam and share his essence with him. Sam kissed back hungrily, and then looked Steve in the eyes. 

“I’m ready,” said Sam.

Steve snatched the lube from the bedside table and poured a generous amount on his hand, his dick, and Sam’s asshole. He pulled Sam’s legs over his shoulders, poised the head of his dick at Sam’s entrance, and just began to push inside. Sam forced his muscles to relax and let Steve’s sizable dick inside him. It hurt, but it didn’t take long for that pain to morph into pleasure. After Sam gave Steve the OK, Steve slammed into him at full force, burying himself all the way in and making Sam moan with shock and pleasure. Steve pulled out and went in again, and again, until he was fucking Sam like an animal. 

Sam watched Steve in awe. He stroked his hands over Steve’s toned torso, which rolled languidly back and forth as he thrusted in and out with a steady, intoxicating rhythm. Steve’s dick massaged Sam’s prostate so perfectly as Sam jerked himself off, Sam felt like he could cum at any moment. 

Steve seemed to read his thoughts. “Don’t cum yet. I can go as long as you want,” Steve assured him, which only turned Sam on more. But he relented and stopped touching himself. 

“Let’s switch. I wanna be on top,” said Sam.

Steve slowed to a stop and carefully pulled out of Sam. Sam got up onto his knees, and Steve lay down on his stomach, arching his ass up at Sam and looking back at him. “Do your worst.”

Sam paused for a moment to reflect on their first meeting. How great his ass had looked in those shorts. And now it was presented here in front of him, naked, and all his.

Sam used a great deal of lube. Even after all these years, it was still a challenge for Steve to take Sam’s dick. No one Steve had been with could compare in sheer length or girth. Steve gritted his teeth through the pain as Sam began to split him open. He went as slowly as he possibly could, giving Steve all the time he needed to adjust. It took a little while before Sam was fully sheathed inside him. Steve could feel him in his guts, filling his ass and making him whole. 

Sam began to push in and out, and he reached around Steve to stroke his dick as he fucked him. Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he moaned breathlessly as Sam pounded into him. “Oh yeah. Just like that, baby,” Steve said. The pleasure was overwhelming.

“Mm-hmm,” Sam grunted and picked up speed, and Steve was in ecstasy. Heaven. Sex with Sam had always been amazing, but it had never felt quite this good. It boggled his mind and made his body crave orgasm, even though he never wanted this feeling to end.

Sam didn’t give him a choice. His jacking hand picked up speed, and so did the stirring of his hips, and as soon as he started to speed up, Steve knew he was about to cum. “Oh, Sam,” he moaned. “I’m cumming.”

“Yeah?” moaned Sam. “Me too.”

“Cum inside me,” Steve whispered.

Sam shuddered and pushed in a few more times before he came, and Steve came at the exact same time, spurting out cum and hitting the pillows with it as waves of pleasure cascaded through his entire being, shaking him to his core.

Sam collapsed on top of him for a moment before rolling onto his side and pulling Steve close. Sam pulled out of him, knowing Steve couldn't stand to leave it in after he came. Steve turned around, and they kissed each other long and deep, both men still panting from exhaustion. 

“I love you,” breathed Sam.

“I love you too,” breathed Steve.

The two of them fell back asleep right there together in a mess of cum and sweat. Sam clutched his new ring close to his heart, still in awe.

* * *

The doorbell rang, stirring them both from their sleep.

It was Steve who gathered the energy to get out of bed, and he kissed Sam and told him to rest. He threw on a pair of sweatpants and scratched his back as he rounded the corner. He opened the door, and as soon as he did, his blood ran ice cold, robbing his limbs of all their strength at once. He took a step backward and collapsed onto his behind, but could not look away, even as streaming tears sprouted from his eyes and threatened to blur out his vision. Of course he recognized the man immediately—he would have recognized him anywhere—though his hair had grown much longer, and his face looked a little bit older. 

“How? How? How?” Steve kept repeating, head shaking, whole body trembling.

“Steve? Is everything okay? Who is it?” Sam rushed around the corner to the front door. Bewildered, Sam looked back and forth between Steve and the man in the doorway. It took him a moment, but Sam recognized him too.

Bucky looked a lot different in the photos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please look forward to our next chapter, in which we finally welcome Bucky back!


	3. A Celebratory Soirée

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The perfect battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part three of four, in which Tony throws a party, which places everyone into an uncomfortable spot.

They had been in bed with each other all day. Just the two of them. Sam and Steve. A perfect pair in their private paradise. Sure, they had made a few FaceTime calls to friends to share the news of their engagement. Natasha was the first to know, though she was less surprised, and more like, “Ugh, finally!” when Sam held the ring up to the camera with that stupid grin on his face. She assured them she’d be sharing the news with anyone who would listen, and before they could ask her not to do that, she hung up.

But after that, their phones were off, so that the outside world could no longer disturb them. This was their time alone, and they would have it. They cuddled. They kissed. They rolled around. They fucked. Sometimes they would take a break for food or water or the restroom, but certainly not as often as they should have. They were like two horny teenagers in love for the first time, unable to get enough of their new sensation, of each other’s bodies, and each other’s company. 

When night had fallen, they were asleep again. The doorbell rang, bringing them out of their sweet dreams and back into the real world, where things happen that keep lovers apart.

* * *

“Steve,” said a trembling Bucky at the door, a single teardrop rolling down his cheek.

Steve flinched at the sound; his name in Bucky’s voice was something he hadn’t heard in nearly fifteen years. More tears rushed to meet the others under his chin.

“Bucky…?” Steve’s voice came out high and cracked. He blinked at him in surreal amazement. 

Bucky stretched out his arms and took a step forward, nodding. “Yeah.” 

Steve slowly and shakily rose to his feet and approached Bucky with caution, as if it were a trick. He tilted his head as he studied him from head to toe. He looked like a memory from a dream. A phantom made real. “You were—you were dead...” The last word trailed off into a whisper, like some forbidden curse. 

“You got taller,” Bucky chuckled. 

A loud laugh escaped Steve’s throat as he inched into Bucky’s reach. Bucky pulled Steve into a long, tight hug, and Steve broke down into a breathless cry. Bucky sobbed wetly into his shoulder. It was just like they were boys again.

Bucky leaned his head back and admired Steve’s new face, cupping his bearded cheeks in his hands. Unable to wait any longer, he pulled Steve into a lip-crushing kiss. Steve’s heart stalled as he pulled away from Bucky after a short second. Bucky looked confused, and his eyes flickered toward the figure of a man behind Steve. It was Sam, who was still waiting shirtless near the entrance of the bedroom, watching the whole scene play out with a wild look in his eyes. 

“Who’s this?” Bucky asked.

Sam retreated to the bedroom at once, heart in his throat. Steve’s lower lip quivered as he wiped his leaking eyes. “That’s Sam,” he said. “He’s my fiancé.”

Bucky’s eyes went dark. “Oh.”

“And I have… ten million questions for you, Bucky. But right now, I have to go talk to him,” said Steve. “Okay? Please, don’t go anywhere. Okay?”

Bucky nodded absently, and Steve turned to chase after Sam.

* * *

“I get it now,” said Sam, pacing to the far side of the room, lit only by the crack in the door and the hint of moonlight from the window. “He’s handsome.”

“He didn’t know, Sam,” said Steve, walking toward him. “I just told him. He’s been gone for years, and last time he saw me, we were together.”

“You kissed him,” Sam hissed suddenly through hot tears, pushing Steve away from him.

Sam had never gotten so physical with him before. Not in this context. “ _ He _ kissed  _ me _ , Sam.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head and shrugging in defeat. “You literally just proposed to me, and then you let him kiss you.”

“Sam, I—”

Sam held up a hand to shush him. He closed his eyes, sat on the bed, and looked down at the wooden floors for several moments. Steve thought his heart might burst waiting for him to speak. Sam let out a slow and shaky sigh. “This isn’t about me,” Sam said finally, and Steve breathed out too. Sam waved him away urgently. “Go on. Go talk to your long lost lover. I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.” He buried his face in his hands.

Steve lingered where he was, a maelstrom of emotion wrinkling his brow. His first thought was to reach for him. Comfort him. Instead he slowly shifted his weight to turn and leave the room, leaving the conversation on an unresolved note. “I’ll be back.”

Sam didn’t watch him as he left. He let himself flop back onto the bed and slowly began to contemplate his shit-luck life.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, stirring his tea obsessively without the intention of drinking it. 

“Buck,” said Steve.

“I’m  _ so _ sorry,” he reemphasized. “It’s been a decade and a half. I should’ve guessed you’d moved on.” He stirred and he stirred and he stirred some more. “I mean, who wouldn’t want their boyfriend to move on? I’d be selfish not to—”

Suddenly a strong but gentle hand was on top of Bucky’s, stopping his jingling spoon in place. Bucky looked up at Steve through long waves of hair which were not there when they last saw each other all those years ago. Steve’s stare was intense, and it had only gotten more intense with age. It was hard to even look him in the eyes without a lifetime of emotion coming up from his gut to haunt him. “Buck,” repeated Steve, and his voice still held that strange power over him. The power to soothe his shattered nerves, no matter what was happening. “Tell me everything. What happened to you?”

Bucky scoffed a laugh and looked at the white tiles of the floor. “I…” he started. “I couldn’t possibly tell you everything that’s happened to me.” His voice was a bitter drip. He looked back into Steve’s eyes, the steel blue fortress. Maybe this wasn’t his same old Steve. Maybe they couldn’t pick back up right where they’d left off. There was so much history that he’d missed—a boyhood friend who had grown up so much that they could no longer relate to each other. Bucky swallowed, his mouth dry. “But I can try,” he said as he contemplated his spoon. “But first, tell me about Sam.” Bucky leaned back coolly in his chair, but Steve knew he was feeling anything but cool in this situation. “What’s he like? How did you two meet?”

“Uh…” Steve was at a momentary loss for words. He had told the tale of Sam to so many people, but telling it to Bucky now seemed too much. “I don’t know if I can get into all that right now,” Steve said honestly. “I think, maybe after we’ve had some time to calm down and process everything that’s been happening, maybe the three of us could take some time and discuss this all together. I’m sure we all have some things we can share—that we can learn from each other.” 

Bucky smiled and looked into his swirling teacup, still full. He stood up. “I should leave you two alone now.” 

Steve stood too and leaned forward on the table, so quickly he shook it. “Wait,” he said, looking at Bucky like the apparition he was, knowing he was about to disappear from sight. “D—do you have a place to stay tonight? Our couch pulls out.” 

“Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly ask you guys to do that. I’ll just get a hotel room.” 

He donned his leather jacket and walked past Steve, who grabbed his arm and held it tightly. “Please, don’t go. Please.” 

After all, he had only just gotten him back.

Bucky froze in place. He couldn’t look at him. “What, are you gonna  _ make _ me stay here?” he asked with a hint of humor.

“No,” said Steve, still holding on and deathly serious. “I’m begging you.”

Bucky let out his breath. “Honestly, what’s the difference?”

Steve lit up. “So you’ll stay?”

“As long as it’s alright with your… fiancé,” he qualified. It was sick to affirm aloud that the love of his life was in love with someone else.

“I’ll talk to him,” Steve promised.

“In the meantime, let me get my bag from the car.”

Steve hugged him again. “ _ Thank you _ . I’ll grab you a pillow and some fresh linen.” He turned to leave.

Bucky nodded. He walked down the hall to the front door, taking his time to look at the walls and the floors and the ceilings as he went. What a beautiful home they had, Sam and Steve. A beautiful life. He’d long ago dreamed of having one just like it. 

As he looked at a framed photograph of the happy couple, smiling in each other’s arms, he listened to the men’s brief, hushed discussion in the bedroom. He couldn’t make much out, but Steve soon came back out to the living room with the pillow and the bedsheets and the blanket as promised, all bundled up in his arms. He smiled at Bucky. “You haven’t gotten your bag yet? Do you need help?”

“No,” Bucky laughed weakly as he opened the front door. “I got it.” 

Outside he popped the trunk to the tune of a thousand crickets. After retrieving his bag, he stared through the rear window at the steering wheel. He didn’t have to go back inside the house. He could drive away and pretend this night had never happened. Everyone’s lives would be better for it.

He closed the trunk and went back inside the house.

* * *

“Let me know if you need anything else,” said Steve as Bucky settled into bed.

“Just hit the light,” said Bucky, lying face-up on the pull-out bed. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he had slept on worse. Much worse. “Thanks.”

Steve nodded. “Good night.” He flipped off the lights.

He returned to the bedroom and closed the door. He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he climbed into the bed beside Sam. The man was silent, lying all the way on the edge of his side of the bed with his back turned. Carefully, as if not to scare him away, Steve encircled Sam with his arms as he’d done that morning. “Are you okay, Sam?” Steve asked him in a low voice.

“I’m warm,” Sam replied flatly.

“...What?” 

“I’m warm,” he repeated, more clearly this time. “From the body heat.”

“Oh.” Steve got the message and released Sam from his arms. Slowly he scooted away and rolled over to his side of the bed. “Good night,” he said, quiet tears streaming down his face.

“Night,” said Sam softly, tears running down his face too.

* * *

At the crack of dawn, Sam cracked another egg into the pan beside the bacon. Sizzling sounds and mouth-watering smells filled the house and made Steve’s and Bucky’s stomachs growl with yearning as they both stirred from a restless, dreamless sleep.

Bucky was the first to wander into the kitchen. He was clad in only shorts and a tank top, his hair in a messy rubber-band bun, and his knuckles still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He was surprised when he saw Sam cooking at the stove. He was even more surprised when Sam gave him a welcoming smile.

“Morning,” Sam said, deftly flipping a pancake with one hand and turning the bacon with another. The man was good with his hands, Bucky noted.

“Morning,” Bucky said back in a graggly voice. Now he felt trapped—not comfortable enough to advance any farther into the kitchen, but bound not to exit it by some nebulous concept of social etiquette.

Sam wiped his hands with the kitchen towel that was slung over his shoulder and offered his hand to shake. “I’m Sam. You must be Bucky.” He was such a smooth man.

Bucky eagerly accepted his hand and smiled back. “Right. Nice to officially meet you.”

“Right,” said Sam, still smiling. He returned to his work. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk last night. I was raised to greet people with respect, and I know my parents would’ve beat my ass if they saw the way I handled things back there.” They both chuckled at that. “I just figured you and Steve could use some privacy, y’know?”

“Hey, no hard feelings, man. That’s… That’s very thoughtful of you. I appreciate it.” Bucky hadn’t known what to expect from talking to Sam, but he certainly hadn’t expected it to be so easy. It was a strange space to inhabit. Unfamiliar territory. “This is a weird situation for all of us,” he added out loud, hoping to find some common ground with his replacement. How twisted was this?

“Yeah,” Sam said with that same smile, making Bucky regret talking so much. “Are you hungry? Breakfast is almost ready. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m a pretty good cook.”

“He is,” chimed Steve from the doorway behind Bucky. “I see you two are already chatting it up in here.” He seemed pleasantly surprised. He went past Bucky and hesitantly gave Sam a quick peck on the cheek, which made Sam smile. Bucky clenched his fist and bit the inside of his lip. This was going to be harder than he had anticipated. 

Steve saw the discomfort he was causing Bucky and moved over to the cabinet, where he grabbed plates and silverware to set the table. 

“Can I help set up?” Bucky offered to distract himself.

“We’re pretty much done,” said Sam as he brought the food to the table and Steve placed the last knife down. “Bon apétit.” 

“This looks good,” said Steve, rubbing his hands together as he sat on the end, and Sam sat beside him. Bucky sat at the seat opposite Steve to keep as much distance as possible. He knew his place. He felt his stomach churn.

Bucky stared at the food thoughtfully as Steve and Sam began to serve themselves. Sam looked his way and laughed. “It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Sam said, grabbing a fluffy stack of pancakes and dousing them in Aunt Jemima’s. “We’re all military men. You know if I wanted to kill you I could do it in a much more creative way than that.”

Bucky sneered at him and reached for the bacon. They all dug into their food, eating a lot and not saying much. 

“This  _ is _ really good,” Bucky painfully admitted. Actually, he hadn’t eaten anything this good in a long, long time, but he wouldn’t give Sam the satisfaction.

“Thank you,” said Sam. His smile had gone stiff. 

“Sam’s good at everything,” Steve smiled with his mouth full, placing a hand on Sam’s thigh. “Well, everything except jogging.” 

“Asshole,” said Sam, kicking him under the table.

Bucky chuckled quietly. “That’s great. Inside jokes.” If he was going to be made into a third wheel, he would be a squeaky one. 

Sam looked him up and down before looking back at his plate. “That’s what happens when you spend enough time with someone,” he said under his breath before taking a sip of his orange juice, wishing it were a stronger drink.

Bucky glared back at him. That was catty, and it was meant to hurt. Steve breathed softly out of his nostrils. He didn’t like this one bit. They had been doing so well a second ago.

All at once, their phones buzzed and chirped, bringing a welcome break into the awkward silence. Sam raised an eyebrow as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He had a Facebook notification from Tony Stark. 

“What the hell does he want?” Sam wondered aloud, opening the notification.

“Who?” asked Steve, looking at his own phone and finding the rather disappointing answer to his own question. He had the same notification.

Sam read aloud as his eyes scanned the page. “‘A Celebratory Soirée. My dearest friends and family, you are cordially invited to join me at my enormous penthouse to celebrate two incredible and coincidental happenings: The return of my good friend Steve Rogers’ long lost pal Bucky, and Rogers’ engagement to his hot new man Sam. There will be plenty of foods, booze, and tunes. Just bring you!’” Sam recited in his best Tony Stark impression, breaking into laughter at the end. “Please tell me you guys got this.”

“I got it,” said Bucky, now reading along from his own phone in disgust.

“How did he know about this?” asked Steve anxiously. “How did he put this together so fast?”

“Well I’m sure Nat told him about the engagement yesterday,” Sam rationalized, placing his phone down on the table.

“Right. But how did he know about Bucky?” Steve asked. They both turned to Bucky, who was looking full of regret.

“How did you think I got your address?” muttered Bucky.

“Damn it!” spat Steve, slamming a balled fist on the table, jangling the silverware and startling Sam and Bucky. “He’s always pulling stunts like this just to stir the pot.”

“Now, now,” said Sam in a mocking lilt. “How do you know he’s not genuinely happy for us?”

“Yeah right,” Steve laughed bitterly, typing slowly on his phone like an old man. “I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.”

“I think it could be fun,” Bucky cut in.

Sam and Steve exchanged a look and laughed incredulously. “What?”

“I mean, it’d be a good way for us all to get acquainted—or reacquainted with each other. Don’t you think?”

After a pause, Sam shrugged and looked at Steve. “It would be nice to celebrate.”

“Sam,” said Steve.

“I’m serious. This way we don’t have to throw our own engagement-slash-welcome-home party.”

Steve looked between the two men—his former lover back from the dead, and his new love with the ring on his finger. It was a miracle: They were agreeing on something. He sighed, defeated. “I guess we could all use a little distraction.”

“Amen to that,” said Sam and Bucky in unison.

“When is this party anyway?” asked Steve.

Sam looked at the invitation again and scowled. “In thirteen hours.”

* * *

A warm breeze hit the three of them as they stepped out of the black limousine Tony had sent for them and were greeted with shouts, reaching hands, and flashing cameras from fans and paparazzi alike. It had been a long and awkward ride, so they were happy for some fresh air, despite the rabid attention of the onlookers behind the velvet ropes. A man in a black suit named Happy Hogan escorted Sam, Steve, and Bucky as they walked the red carpet that had been laid out for guests. It stretched all the way from the limo to the front doors of Tony's building. Steve stood in the middle of the group in a blue velvet blazer and a white shirt with a black bow tie, trousers, and shoes. He held hands with Sam on his right, who was dressed in a cool gray three-piece suit with a dark blue tie that matched his fiancé’s jacket. Not to be outdone, Bucky stood on the left in a slick, all-black ensemble with his long hair pulled back into a neat bun.

He may have felt like a third wheel, but he didn’t have to look like one.

“Hello, and welcome,” a handsome and bubbly young man greeted them as the sliding glass doors closed behind them. “Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wilson, I presume?”

“Yes,” grinned Steve, looking over at Sam with loving eyes, who grinned back.

“Let me be the first to congratulate you two on your engagement,” he said with a warm, inviting smile.

“Thank you,” they both said.

“And you must be Mr. Barnes,” he said, nodding at Bucky. “Thank you for your service, and welcome back to the States! That must’ve been some journey you had.”

“Thank you,” Bucky smiled and nodded awkwardly. “It was.” He didn’t really know what to say to all this attention. He was still starstruck from the limo ride.

“Mr. Stark and his guests are waiting for you at the top floor,” the young man said. “I’ll escort you to the elevator.”

“Swanky,” said Sam, looking around at the lobby. It was a massive room with huge windows and curving architecture, a globe-shaped fountain lit up in blue sitting at the center of it all. The young man led the three of them past the fountain to a glass elevator that offered them a great view of New York City as they rose up to the ninety-third floor. 

“This  _ is  _ swanky,” agreed Bucky, looking absently out at the skyline.

“Yeah, it’s  _ great _ if you like ultra-rich people flaunting their cash,” grumbled Steve.

The elevator dinged to the top floor, and as soon as the doors opened, the trio was greeted by cheers from a room of at least a hundred people. Everyone was dressed to the nines, the tens, even the elevens. There was a live band playing a swinging rendition of  _ Crazy in Love _ as young male servers wandered the room with alcohol and hors d'oeuvres. Natasha was of course the first to greet them. Her bright red shoulder-length curls bounced with excitement as she made her way over in a slim black dress that showed off her chest, and a little leg.

“Congratulations, you two,” she said, laying one kiss each on Steve’s and Sam’s cheeks. “And welcome home, Bucky,” she said with compassion in her eyes, holding out her hand. “I’m Natasha.”

Bucky realized then that he wasn’t ready to interact with the world again. He was already annoyed at how people were looking at him, like some damaged boy. He smiled anyway and shook her hand. “Thanks, Natasha. Nice to meet you.”

Tony, rocking purple shades that hid his eyes, an ostentatious double-breasted coat, and a comfortable but obviously inappropriate pair of white sneakers, finished his champagne and made his way over to the group, tipsily walking to the beat of the music. “There they are—the men of the hour,” he said with a bajillion-dollar smile. “Nay, men of the century,” he corrected, laughing to himself as he spread his arms like wings and gave Steve a too-tight hug. “My ex.” He then switched to hugging Bucky. “ _ His _ ex, whom I could never live up to. Welcome back from the war, by the way.” He winked, and then he hugged Sam. “And the new beau, Sammy-boy, who’s apparently so much better than both of us, he decided to wife him up.” He snatched another flute of champagne from a server’s tray as he passed by.

“Tony, I think you’ve had enough,” said Natasha with a withering smile.

Bucky had a ten-inch knife stuck in his chest as he looked back and forth between Tony and Steve. “Your ex?”

Steve’s face was red, a mix of anger and embarrassment. “If you want to call it that.”

“But it’s okay,” said Tony. “I got myself a new beau too. Oh Bruce?” he called into the crowd. A handsome but meek-looking man in a pair of glasses and a plain black tuxedo turned around and came over as Tony beckoned him with a wave of his hand.

“Hi guys,” said Bruce with a quick wave. 

Tony climbed on top of a nearby table, marking it’s nice white cloth with dirt from the bottom of his shoe as he stood up on it. “Could I have everyone’s attention?” he shouted, clinking his platinum watch against his glass repeatedly. Everyone looked up at him, and the countless conversations in the room died down. “I’d like to make a toast.” He held his drink aloft, looking from Bucky to Steve to Sam. “To old friends, and to new love.” 

Everyone clapped and cheered and raised their glasses.

Tony grinned. “And while I have your attention, I’d like to do something else. Jarvis, cue the music.”

As the upbeat party song the band was playing turned to a slow, romantic ballad, Tony hopped down from the table and dropped to one knee in front of Bruce, producing a box with a diamond ring in it. Gasps rang out across the crowd. Bruce looked around with wide eyes, seemingly unsure of how to react.

“My god,” said Steve. Sam’s mouth was agape. Bucky squinted in confusion. Natasha covered her face with both palms.

“Bruce, my brilliant boyfriend,” Tony began. “Would you do me the honor of being my science bro for life?”

“Tony, you crazy bastard,” laughed Bruce. “Of course I’ll marry you!”

Tony stood, and the newly minted fiancés kissed, and the crowd cheered again, even louder this time. It was the most surreal moment any of them had ever witnessed.

Sam looked to Steve. “Did he really just—”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Just making sure. ...Well, we’d better go congratulate him before he writes us out of the will.”

“You go,” said Steve. “I’ve been out of that document for years. I’m gonna go get us drinks.”

“Cranberry juice and pretend it’s vodka?”

“You know it.”

As people switched from congratulating Steve and Sam and fawning over Bucky to congratulating and fawning over Tony and Bruce, Bucky was almost relieved that the attention was off of them. In the middle of the commotion, Bucky retreated to the bar to grab a drink. Champagne was just not hard enough—he was going to need some bourbon.

“Two cranberry juices,” Steve told the bartender as he sat in the stool beside Bucky, who seemed to be drinking straight liquor. “Not enjoying the party?” Steve asked.

“Not as much as I thought I would,” Bucky admitted with a smile.

“I could’ve told you that.” Steve took a sip of his juice as the bartender placed it in front of him. “Something on your mind?”

Bucky took a sip too and winced at the taste. “Just trying to wrap my head around how you had not one but multiple guys since I left. Not having much luck with it.”

Steve’s grip tightened around his glass as he studied Bucky’s face. He looked so tired. Had he always looked this tired? “Bucky, I thought you were dead,” Steve reminded him.

Bucky put his glass down a little too sharply. “Is it too much to ask for you to be so heartbroken that you never love again?”

Steve was shocked. “Bucky—”

“It’s selfish! I know. But you’re the—” he stopped himself and took a deep, deep breath through his nose. “You  _ were  _ the love of my life, so forgive me if it’s just a little bit hard for me to see you be in love with somebody else.” He threw back the remainder of his drink. “Can I get another?” he asked the bartender, holding up a twenty. “Make it a double.”

Steve took Bucky’s hand into his as the bartender poured his drink, and the feeling was too much for Bucky. His pain immediately melted into tears. “Bucky,” said Steve, more softly this time. “I’m still in love with you.”

Bucky’s eyes were wide open and shining with tears as he stared at Steve. “Why would you say that?”

Steve lowered his brow. “Because it’s the truth.”

Bucky shook his head. “That’s just cruel.” He took a long gulp of his fresh new drink.

Steve sat for a few pensive seconds. “Why? Don’t you feel the same way?”

Bucky was so furious, he grabbed his drink and stood up from the bar. “Of fucking course I’m still in love with you. But it’s not like I can act on my feelings now, so why the fuck are you rubbing it in my face?”

He then stormed off to who knows where, leaving Steve to contemplate alone.

* * *

“Congrats, you two,” said Sam to Tony and Bruce with a practiced fake smile on his face.

“Thank you so much,” said Bruce, holding Tony with his right arm and holding up the ring on his left hand to Sam’s. “We match!” He looked at Sam thoughtfully for a moment. “Hey, I—I’m sorry if we stole your thunder. You know how this guy is.” He pointed a finger at Tony and smiled.

“Yeah, you know how I  _ is _ ,” parroted Tony, holding up his hands.

“Not at all,” lied Sam. “I’m happy for you. But knowing how Tony ‘is,’ I gotta say, I’m a little surprised he decided to settle down. Especially with someone so…” Sam made some vague gestures at Bruce.

“So handsome and loving and intellectual?” offered Tony, giving Bruce a kiss on the cheek.

“Age-appropriate,” finished Sam.

Tony and Bruce both chuckled in surprise. “Funny you should say that. Oh Peter?” Tony called. 

A young, twinkish boy, underdressed with nothing but a t-shirt on under his brown suit, happily made his way over to the group. “Yes, Mr. Stark?” he said with all the enthusiastic obedience of a boy scout.

Sam tried not to turn up his nose. “Did you ask him to call you that?”

“Are you kinkshaming me, Samuel Thomas Wilson?” Tony asked as he pulled Peter close and gave him a kiss on the lips.

Sam watched this happen with furrowed brows. “Of... course not.”

“We’re in an open-relationship-type... thing,” explained Bruce with a strained smile before taking a sip of his champagne. “We have a little fun on the side. Keeps things interesting.”

“Good for you guys,” smiled Sam. “I’m too jealous for that. If Steve brought home someone who wasn’t old enough to drink, I’d start swinging.” Bruce and Tony laughed at that.

“I just turned twenty-one,” Peter corrected him.

“Ah, a college boy, I take it?” probed Sam with a smirk on his face.

“Yes, sir. Columbia University,” Peter said proudly. 

“That’s an expensive school,” remarked Sam. “You must be real smart.”

“Well…” Peter shrugged humbly.

“4.0 GPA on this one,” Tony bragged for him. “And they didn’t even offer him a full ride. Can you believe that?”

“But Mr. Stark was kind enough to pay my tuition for me,” he said, looking up at Tony with a big smile.

“But he works hard for his tuition, if you know what I mean,” Tony added with a wink, smacking Peter on his bum. Then he hooked an arm around Peter’s neck to pull his head close and “whisper” lecherously into his ear, “And you’re gonna work hard tonight, aren’t you?” He kissed him on the side of his head.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter laughed in embarrassment. Sam looked on in silent judgement.

“What did I miss?” asked Steve, back out of the blue with the drinks. He handed a glass of the ruby red liquid to Sam and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks babe. We were just discussing the merits of an open relationship.” He smiled at Tony, Bruce, and Peter and took a sip.

“Oh, color me interested,” said Steve with a raised eyebrow, also taking a sip.

“Steve, have you met Peter?” Tony said with a supervillain grin.

Sam rolled his eyes and handed the drink back to Steve. “Actually, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” He looked around. “Hey, where’s Bucky?”

Steve couldn’t make eye contact. “I’m not sure.”

Sam shrugged. “Hm. Tony, restroom?”

“Down the hall, second door on your right,” Tony answered. “Not the first. That’s a closet. Everyone makes that mistake.”

“Got it. Be right back.”

* * *

Sam rounded the corner to find Bucky (ugh) standing alone against the wall in the shadows outside the bathroom, face only illuminated by his phone. Sam stopped in place and almost turned around. Surely there were like a hundred other bathrooms in this penthouse. 

Bucky blinked up at him. “Hey.”

Damn. “Hey.” Sam could be cordial. There was no need to get nasty. “Someone in the bathroom?” 

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”

“How long have you been waiting?” 

“A good minute,” he said. “And it sounds like they’re puking their guts out, so it might be a while.” He was slurring his speech.

“Great,” said Sam. “I forgot how wild Tony Stark parties can be.” 

He settled down next to Bucky and pulled out his own phone so he had something else to look at besides Bucky’s sad, drunk face. Bucky scrolled on his phone with one hand while the other held a glass filled to the brim with a pure brown liquor. Sam regretted getting this close to him. God, did he have to smell so much like alcohol? They stood there for several seconds in what Sam thought was a mutually agreed-upon silence, until Bucky ruined it by speaking.

“What does he see in you?” Bucky pronounced his words slowly. 

Sam looked up from his phone, surprise anger flaring in his nostrils, and then he looked at Bucky. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing. It’s really none of my business.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” 

And it was silent again for a long time.

“I just hope you’re taking good care of him,” said Bucky finally.

“Oh, I am,” Sam assured him.

“Even though I took care of him first. And much better than you ever could,” Bucky said, punctuating his sentence by taking a small sip from his glass and slamming it down on the table beside him.

Sam laughed tightly and returned to looking at his phone. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. I don’t fight with drunk people.” He was pretending really hard to read an article about all the Easter eggs in the newly released trailer for this upcoming summer’s superhero blockbuster. 

“You know drunk people tell the truth. I’m just saying he could do  _ so _ much better than you. But I know eventually he’ll come to his senses,” Bucky shrugged.

“Wow,” Sam laughed. “Really? It’s like that?”

“It’s like that,” Bucky shrugged again.

“See, I knew you were an asshole,” he said, letting his phone hand hang at his side. “That was so uncalled for. Every time we bury the hatchet, you have to go and dig it up again.”

“You’re the one digging it up.”

“How? By being with Steve? I know you’re mad because he’s not your man anymore, and that sucks, and I’m sorry, but try to handle it like a grown man, would you?”

“Say that to my face.” Bucky stepped right in front of him and stared daggers into his eyes.

“I’m done talking to you,” said Sam. He went back to his fake reading.

Bucky gave him a shove. “Little  _ bitch _ .”

Sam shoved him back. “What the  _ fuck _ ?”

Bucky shoved him again. “What?”

“Get out of my face, man,” Sam warned him, shoving him back again, harder.

“Make me.”

Their eyes were locked together, and the tension was unbearable.

Sam breathed, shaking his head. “If it weren’t for Steve, I would lay your ass out right now.”

Bucky responded by spitting on Sam’s shoe.

Sam responded to that by throwing the first punch.

Fists flew in both directions as they grappled with each other and slammed against the wall, trying to tear each other apart. Eyes were bruised and noses were made to bleed as hard knuckles came down on skin and bone and cartilage.

“Excuse me,” came a small voice from the other end of the hallway, interrupting their scuffle.

Sam and Bucky looked up from each other panting, fists holding a tight grip on each other’s shirts. It was Peter. “What?” snapped Bucky.

“A—are you guys in line for the bathroom?” he asked, hands fidgeting.

Sam pushed Bucky away from himself and used his sleeve to wipe the fresh blood off his nose.

“I’ll just go find another one,” said Peter, smiling and nodding and power-walking away.

“Fuck!” said Sam. “Look what you did! Now Steve’s gonna know we were fighting. You  _ know _ he wouldn’t want that from us.”

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” Bucky mocked, retrieving his glass from the table. “You think you’re the only one with a special connection to Steve? You wanna hear about how Steve and I met?” 

That would be the absolute  _ last  _ thing Sam would want to hear about right now. “Trust me, I’ve heard all the stories from him.” Sam straightened his clothes and started after Peter.

Bucky looked at his glass, and then the wall, a troubling thought wrinkling his brow. “I’ve been wanting to tell Steve what happened to me, after the train,” Bucky said, and Sam stopped in his tracks. “But I’m too scared he’ll be upset.”

“Why would he be upset?” Sam bit the bait, turning around to face him. Truth be told, everyone wanted to know what had happened to Bucky, and as far as Sam knew, Bucky hadn’t told anyone. 

Bucky turned to him and offered his glass. “You might want some of this. Bartender poured me a double and I think I’ve had too much.”

“ _ Oh, you think _ ?” Sam said venomously, now standing at the wall across from Bucky. “No, thanks. Steve and I don’t drink anymore.”

“That explains the cranberry juice,” Bucky marveled to himself and sighed. He put the glass down on the floor between them and slid it closer to Sam with his foot. “Well, in case you change your mind.”

Sam crossed his arms and watched Bucky attentively. “Well?”

Bucky took a deep breath and began to paint the picture for Sam. After Bucky fell off the train, he suffered serious wounds, most notably a broken arm. But he was alive, and that was a gift he was determined not to let go to waste. But before he could drag himself back to safety, he was discovered by enemy troops. They took him in and subjected him to all sorts of torture, physical, psychological... the details of which Bucky elected not to go into. They even tried to brainwash him—turn him to their side—but he escaped after years of waiting for the right moment. He went into hiding in Russia until he could make it back to America, and survived thanks to the kindness of a few strangers. Sometimes, though, the only thought that kept him alive was the thought of seeing Steve's face again, and all the while he had never touched another man since Steve. It just wouldn't be the same. He made plans to find Steve, but he was hard to look up, since he had very little presence online. He eventually came into contact with Tony, whom Bucky told he was an old friend of Steve’s who wanted to surprise him. Tony gave up Steve’s info, but even after Bucky found out exactly how to find him, it would be months before he would try to. Sam asked him why he had kept Steve waiting.

Bucky said he was afraid that Steve had moved on.

“...Wow.” said Sam. “Maybe I’ll have a sip after all.” He reached for the glass. “Just a little bit.”

Bucky laughed at Sam as Sam took a big gulp of the bourbon. Just like that, he ended his years of sobriety on impulse. It was a rush of emotion. The oaky flavor, the cool burn on his lips and insides felt both foreign and familiar. It didn’t take long for the buzz to kick in, kicking out any feelings of regret. It felt good to get drunk. How could he forget?

“Okay, your turn,” said Bucky, breaking Sam out of his thoughts.

“My ‘turn’?” inquired Sam.

“I told you my deepest darkest secrets. Now tell me all about you and Steve. He won’t give me anything.”

Sam chuckled and took another sip before going down that long road of memory. “Okay. Let me start from the beginning.”

He told Bucky how he had lost his parents, and Riley. How in the depths of substance abuse and loneliness and despair, he had found hope in his friends. And then he had found purpose in social work. And then he had chanced upon love with Steve, a man who had been through so many of the same struggles as he had. How he and Steve had spent many happy years together. How Steve had proposed to him on the same day Bucky had returned, ruining everything. How he wanted to be happy for Steve when they found out Bucky was alive, but deep down? He was jealous. Jealous that Steve got to reunite with his old lover when Sam would never get that chance. Riley blew up right in front of him; there’s no coming back from that. Even more jealous that Steve clearly still had a flame for Bucky. A big one. And Steve and Bucky had history, and how could Sam compete with that? 

Bucky tried to deny it. He said Bucky knew the old Steve, but he had changed, and Sam was there for the new Steve. Sam politely asked that he cut the bullshit.

Some things you just know, and Sam knew that despite how Steve may have changed, he and Bucky were still very much in love. 

“But I think Steve is in love with  _ you _ ,” insisted Bucky. They had no idea how long they’d been talking, but at some point they had shifted from standing against the wall to sitting on the floor beside each other, passing the glass back and forth. “I really do.”

“Maybe,” said Sam. He was slurring his speech now too. He studied the glass in his hand and put it down. “Do you think somebody can be in love with two people at once?”

Bucky laughed. It was his turn to take a swig from the glass. “You’re the therapist. You tell me.”

“I’m  _ not _ a therapist, and I’m off the clock,” Sam shot back with a smile, snatching the glass and taking another swig.

“Well, you’ve listened to my problems and made me feel a little better,” Bucky said, smiling at him. “That’s what a therapist does, isn’t it?”

Sam smiled back at Bucky. “I guess so.”

Bucky gave Sam a quick once-over with his eyes. “You know, if Steve has to move on with someone else, I’m kinda glad it’s you.”

Sam looked askance at Bucky, uncertain of how to interpret what he was saying. “Why do you say that?”

“Well why wouldn’t I? You’re kind, strong, smart, hardworking…”

“Go on,” Sam batted his eyelashes.

Bucky chuckled. “And you’re cute as hell.”

Sam laughed and looked at Bucky. “Come on, man.”

“I’m serious,” said Bucky. He may have been drunk, but his eyes were lucid. 

Sam’s heart beat a bit faster. What was this feeling? “Well, if Steve has to be hung up on someone else, I’m glad it’s you.”

Bucky closed his eyes blissfully and smiled, leaning toward him. “Go on.”

“You’re not so bad yourself. Looks-wise or personality-wise.” Sam shrugged and leaned toward him too, and now their faces were dangerously close. 

Bucky stared into Sam’s eyes, and moved forward so that their noses were brushing against each other. “I don’t think that person’s coming out of the bathroom.”

Sam froze in place. “Should we call for help?” Now that his nose had been desensitized to the whiskey smell, he could pick up Bucky’s scent. It was something like metal and leather—cold, dark, and completely irresistible.

Bucky blinked and bit his lip, looking back and forth between Sam’s eyes. “...You have pretty eyes.”

Sam looked Bucky’s face up and down and smiled. “You look like shit.” 

Bucky gave a little laugh at that. “Asshole,” he whispered as he craned his face into Sam’s, and their lips softly met. Sam kissed him back, pushing his tongue past the man’s lips and exploring the new terrain. They couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste of each other’s mouths—a wild blend of bourbon, hors d’oeuvres, and their own unique flavors.

Coming to his senses, Sam broke the kiss and looked at Bucky. Why had he just done that? 

Bucky kissed him again, and suddenly he remembered why. 

They were both in pain—multiple kinds—and the buzz of the alcohol in their systems had catalyzed their budding connection into attraction. Hormones, liquor, and emotion made for one heady cocktail.

Sam broke the kiss again and closed his eyes, trying to keep his head in the moment. “We can’t do this out here,” Sam breathed into Bucky’s lips.

“Where would we go?” asked Bucky, looking around.

Brain swimming, Sam glanced down the hall at the closet Tony had mentioned. He grabbed Bucky’s hand and led him toward it, lacking the patience and the self control not to kiss him the whole way there. They clumsily knocked over their glass, but paid no attention as it shattered on the floor. Sam giggled drunkenly as Bucky’s hand slid under the vest of his suit to feel his muscled body.

Sam pressed Bucky against the wall beside the closet door and continued his assault on Bucky’s mouth while his hand fumbled with the doorknob. Bucky bit Sam’s bottom lip as his crotch rolled into Sam’s, making him moan as he finally got the door open. 

Bucky pulled Sam into the closet and slammed him against the door face first, closing them in. It was pitch-black in there, the noise of the party all but muffled out by the walls. Bucky dived into the back of Sam’s neck, kissing its length, rubbing himself against Sam’s firm ass as a hand reached around and fondled his big dick through his pants. Sam moaned again, out loud, unable to contain himself. In a sudden, rapid move, Sam switched places with Bucky, pinning the man’s back against the door and taking him by surprise.

Their lips crashed into each other again in a quick, hot frenzy. The rush of sneaking off to a closet to fuck—it brought back fond, distinct memories in both men’s minds. Their hands wandered all over each other’s bodies and gripped whatever they could find, as if they couldn’t possibly get close enough.

Sam’s palm wandered down to the crotch of Bucky’s pants, nimble fingers feeling the hard tent that was growing and throbbing there. Bucky bucked his hips up into Sam’s touch. He had to admit, the man was good with his hands. Sam removed his hand, leaving Bucky feeling cold, and tore off his own jacket as they kissed. He then grabbed Bucky around the waist and began to lift him up. Bucky hooked his legs around Sam’s and planted a hand on the wall to steady himself, knocking over what felt like a broom in the process. Sam laid him down on the hardwood floor of the closet and ground his hips into Bucky’s. Bucky moaned out loud and wrapped his legs around Sam’s ass, using them to pull him in closer. As they kissed, Bucky rolled himself over so that he was on top. He tugged at Sam’s bow tie until it came loose and then unbuttoned his vest. He reached to unbutton Sam’s shirt as well, but his drunken hands struggled with the task. “Why so many fucking buttons?” Bucky growled. Ever impatient, he reached down with both hands, grabbed two fistfuls of Sam’s shirt, and jerked it open, popping all of the buttons off in one loud rip.

Sam’s mouth hung open in shock as he felt the loose threads of his expensive, ruined shirt. “You’re gonna buy me a new one,” said Sam, grabbing Bucky by his shirt and pulling him down to kiss him.

“Deal,” Bucky grinned into the kiss. “Right after I fuck the shit out of you.”

Sam shuddered with anticipation as the short hairs of Bucky’s beard brushed past his cheek and neck. “More like right after  _ I  _ fuck the shit out of  _ you, _ ” Sam said, but when Bucky went down to suck on Sam’s exposed nipple, Sam could no longer talk back; he could only moan with pleasure. He needed Bucky, and he needed him badly, and he needed him now. The foreplay was just torture at this point.

Bucky sat up and got to work on Sam’s belt. “If you rip my pants—” Sam warned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky dismissed, winning the battle against the buckle, popping the button, and unzipping the fly. He pulled down the waistband of Sam’s underwear and reached inside to free his cock, which was unbelievably long and still in the process of growing. “Holy shit,” he laughed as he stroked it.

Sam laughed too and grabbed Bucky by the back of his neck, tangling his fingers in the long hair there and pulling him in for a rough kiss. He then pulled Bucky away from his face and guided him down toward his erection, now fully hard. Bucky wasted no time; he put it into his mouth, sucking it fast and deep. 

“Oh fuck,” Sam moaned out in pleasure, throwing his head back and pumping his hips to move deeper into Bucky’s tight, wet mouth. He maintained a good grip on Bucky’s hair, which had now come out of its bun to spill over his face and shoulders. Bucky choked and sputtered, but he kept sucking like a champ. Sam didn’t know how long he could last like this. 

So he pushed Bucky off of him and stood them both up. He found his waist and fiddled with the belt until it had loosened, then tore Bucky’s pants down to his ankles. He turned Bucky over and propped him against the wall, knocking some bottles of cleaning supplies off a shelf in the process. Sam dropped to his knees, and his wet hot tongue found Bucky’s hole. “Oh!” Bucky moaned with pleasure and surprise as Sam ate his ass, tongue sweeping circles around the tight entrance. Bucky gasped and pushed his ass backward into Sam’s face so the man’s tongue could plunge deeper inside of him. Sam stuck a spit-slippery finger inside Bucky’s hole and pressed it down into his prostate multiple times, massaging it and making Bucky cry out with joy. Bucky’s rock-solid cock dripped precum onto the floor, and Sam stroked it with a milking motion as he added a second finger. Bucky continued to moan like a whore as Sam spat on his hole and used his cockhead to rub it in. Sam figured he should do something about all that noise Bucky was making. He spat on his hand and lubed himself up before pressing inside of him, much too fast, making Bucky scream in delicious pain. Sam snatched the bow tie from around his neck and shoved it into Bucky’s screaming mouth, holding it there to gag him as he thrusted in and out.

“So tight,” Sam cooed into Bucky’s ear. “You haven’t been fucked in a long time, have you?” Bucky shook his head as his screams were muffled by the tie. His hands found a shelf, which he held onto for purchase as Sam rammed him furiously. Bestial grunts, cries for more, and the slap of balls against ass filled the closet air with the unmistakable sounds of a rough fuck. There were tears in Bucky’s eyes—not from pain, but from the overwhelming pleasure of his hole being stretched. Sam was almost at his limit, drenched in sweat. Bucky’s ass felt unreal—so warm and slick and gripping his length so  _ tight.  _ And Bucky’s choked and guttural moaning only pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He sheathed himself fully inside Bucky, balls-deep, and his hips stopped moving suddenly, filling the man’s hot hole with his load. 

Sam stood there panting weakly, his limbs like liquid in the wake of his mind-blowing orgasm. Bucky took this opportunity to push Sam out of himself and push Sam down onto his knees. Bucky held Sam’s mouth open angrily with one hand and jerked himself off with the other. It was mere seconds before he came with a heavy grunt, squirting hot white cum all over Sam’s tongue and face. His shots were thick and forceful, bursting out of him and into Sam’s mouth until Sam had caught more than he could reasonably swallow. He tried anyway, and licked up the bits that dribbled out from his lips. Bucky panted hard, and they met in the middle for a breathy, cummy kiss, skin and hair dripping wet with sweat.

“...What the fuck did we just do?” Sam breathed after a momentary silence.

“Shit,” Bucky hissed as the doorknob turned, and they both scrambled in vain to clothe themselves as the door swung open, revealing none other than Steven Grant Rogers, holding a glass of cranberry juice.

“Yeah,” Steve said, dumbstruck at the sight of his ex-boyfriend and his current fiancé _ in flagrante delicto _ . “What the  _ fuck _ did you just do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm a messy bitch who lives for drama. 
> 
> Can you believe I'm finally updating? Sorry for disappearing for months on end. I'm a bad writer uwu but quarantine has brought me back to life babey! Eh why am I explaining this to you? Y'all know the drill by now.
> 
> Final installment coming soon! Hopefully it won't take so long this time lol. As always, comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions are appreciated. Like, tremendously appreciated. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comment what you think! Thanks!


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